The sports car that crossed party lines

from Hemmings Sports & Exotic Car

This year's election has brought to mind a sports car that offered so much promise to everyone, no matter if they consider themselves left or right leaning...or perhaps right, and then to the left again. The Carver was the world's first serial production tilting sports car, and my solo test drive remains one of the strangest and most exhilarating experiences of my career. Built in Germany and sold in the Netherlands via Carver Europe, located just outside of Rotterdam, this three-wheeled device appeared to have more in common with a motorcycle than a car.
With two wheels in back and one wheel mounted up front, the Carver featured a two-passenger tandem-seat cockpit that tilted into corners. Depending on the angle of the steering wheel, the cabin would lean into the direction of travel, while the wheels stayed flat on the road surface. General Motors had actually pioneered this idea in the early 1980s with its sleek Lean Machine Concept car, a single-passenger tilting trike that never made the jump to production. Unlike the Carver, the Lean Machine employed handlebars versus a traditional steering wheel.
The Carver's outward similarity to a motorcycle is partly due to the original inspiration for its construction. The design brief was to develop a vehicle that would help to minimize traffic jams in crowded city centers. Anton van den Brink, Carver's co-founder, had noticed how much road space vehicles wasted when they had only one occupant onboard. A smaller, lighter and narrower vehicle would take up less room and, potentially, offer better fuel economy than a traditional car.
At some point down the path to development, someone must have decided it wouldn't hurt to make the Carver a helluva good time, too. Being eco-conscious and frugal are admirable traits--Carver estimated the production model had an overall economy average of 40 MPG. Of course, the rear-mounted 659cc four-cylinder pumped out only 68 horsepower. An acceleration run from 0 to 60 MPH of approximately 8.2 seconds doesn't sound impressive on paper. But from behind the wheel, and with a couple of corners thrown into the mix, this car proved to be a riot.
The view from the driver's seat was spectacular; the cabin's glass canopy gave the impression of piloting a light aircraft. And with a curb weight of roughly 1,400 pounds, the Carver was a bantamweight that could be tossed into corners. At times, the engine was coarser and more breathless than would have been ideal. Yet the reason for buying this car wasn't high-speed histrionics, but the thrill provided by Carver's Dynamic Vehicle Control--i.e., the tilting mechanism that tipped you (not literally!) into corners.
For the record, the Carver felt remarkably stable during the drive. When travelling in a straight line, the cabin stayed upright and steady. In fact, it was so well behaved, I decided to give the steering wheel a few quick wiggles at highway speed. The cabin tilted to either side, yet the wheels stayed glued to the road and I maintained a permanent smile on my face. Traffic circles were the best; I purposefully kept going around and around again, as the asphalt swept past at what seemed like mere inches from my face.
Like most politicians, Carver had some very big ambitions. The company planned on building a sportier and more powerful model and, in a project aimed specifically at the U.S. market, a zero-emission electric-powered version was in the works. In the end, consumers voted with their wallets. The Carver was fantastically fun, but at the time of my drive the European price was the equivalent of $68,000. That's a huge outlay for the car that, in reality, only offered comfortable seating for one.
The rear seat placed a passenger's legs around the driver's seat--if you were modest, well, the Carver was not your kind of car. Shifting the five-speed manual gearbox while in mid-turn/lean also presented some unique challenges. A semi-automatic with paddle shifters would have worked much better. And whoever decided to add a cup-holder in the cockpit of the Carver either had a fantastic sense of humor, or no sense whatsoever.
In retrospect, volume sales might have brought the price down, and extra development would have fixed some of the problems with the gearbox and cabin comfort. However, Carver's early promise tanked along with the world's economy. Plans for a U.S. version quickly fizzled and, eventually, the Carver project somehow morphed into a silly-looking flying car called the PAL-V. Granted, its price was a bit of a budget buster. Though in terms of driving excitement, the Carver blurred the line between sport bike and sports car. It won my vote.

This article originally appeared in the November, 2012 issue of Hemmings Sports & Exotic Car.